


Tell Me

by Alate



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Bats, Fluff, M/M, Tell Me, Tumblr Prompt, You Got Your Rock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alate/pseuds/Alate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's worth the wait.</p><p>Loki refuses to be the broken record that Tom just wants to hear once. But Tom needs it more than anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Batsutousai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/gifts), [Lokesenna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokesenna/gifts).



> **I don't own Loki or Tom Hiddleston** , but the things I'd do if I did…
> 
> This one is for @LadyMarvolo on Twitter and Batsutousai on Tumblr and on here!
> 
> And, of course, as always~, for my love WeHappyFew.

What a bizarre thing to tell someone.

_“I love you.”_

Loki supposes that to mortals it is customary and even expected in every day life. They say it to people they kind of like, barely even know, in parting, in greeting, muttered as a last minute thought at the end of a phone conversation. The trickster god has had to suffer through many a long afternoon of being in some public place with Thomas and hearing women scream “I love you!” at him. The actor would always laugh and wave, and Loki would roll his eyes as if unaffected, and the ginger (or whatever he deemed himself to be that day) never seemed to notice his irritation.

He deems to ask at some point why Thomas thinks this is acceptable, how the word "love" is tossed around so easily, and oftentimes towards the actor himself. Thomas, who had been sitting on the couch looking over a script, had looked up at him and seemed troubled for a moment. “You're right. It is thrown around too much. But I can't just tell people to /not/ tell me they love me.”

“Why not?” Loki had demanded.

Thomas had given him a half-hearted shrug and nibbled the edge of his tea cup before replying. “I love them, too. Just in a different way, of course.”

Why were there not such _words_ for the different types of affection, Loki wonders. “Love”. Mortals love their cars and their pets and their lovers and their children. Thor loved him, but so also did Frigga. And yet none of these things constituted and described how he loved Thomas.

Midgardians, with their pithy, laconic language. In Asgard there were different words for different types of love. Here there was no such thing. How could he tell the mortal he loved him when it would only be words echoed, words Thomas had heard a thousand times before?

No. He couldn't.

And so when Tom says it to him for the first time after a long night of soft, sweet love-making, he swallows, staring at the ceiling and knawing on his lip, knowing Thomas wanted to hear it in return.

But he couldn't.

Tom lays naked on his chest and strokes warm hands up and down his torso quietly, patiently, after he speaks, looking down at his body and then nuzzling under his ear; Loki purrs softly and slides a hand up his muscular back. “I am yours,” he replies instead, and while he notices the look Tom has as he pulls back, it's wiped off and replaced with a smile as he leans in for a kiss.

“And I yours.”

It's not what Tom wanted to hear, but Loki doesn't know what to say and be truthful and mind-blowing.

He struggles for months, coming up with elaborate responses to Tom's now-consistent “I love you”'s. Loki tries to be romantic, tries to be passionate, sweet, kind, desperate, but Tom's eyes always flicker even as he swoons and Loki feels his heart break a little every time. He doesn't know what to do; he doesn't want to give in and say it because to Midgardians it was _so common_ , not enough to express how much he loves him.

_“I love you.”_

It haunts him.

Loki thinks it's starting to push him away.

They lay together one night and Tom is about to fall asleep. He's tucked up under Loki's arm and tracing his name on the raven's chest, and despite his lack of such recently it's beginning to lull Loki to sleep. But then his lover speaks.

“I love you.”

Loki swallows and is awake again, and he shivers as one of Tom's "o"'s circles his nipple and an "m" scribbles over the curve of his pectoral. His lips part. “You give my existence meaning, Thomas.” It's not enough. It's never enough.

Tom is quiet for a moment, his "Hiddleston" cutting short after "Hid" and his palm laying flat over Loki's chest. When he speaks, it's a whisper. “I get it, you know. I know you love me. You don't have to say it. But I know. And I can wait until you're ready. Don't let it bother you, sweetheart… I know it's different.” He shifts and Loki can feel him wet his lips against his side. “Goodnight.”

This has the opposite effect than intended and Loki stares at the ceiling. This was not what he wanted at _all_. He considers shaking the man up ferociously and yelling it in his face. He considers writing it in a letter. He considers just continuing this course.

But… something had to change. This was hurting Thomas, despite his words, and he hates hurting him more than he fears looking like everyone else.

Loki does not sleep that night.

It is only the next day, when Tom crawls over his lap and kisses him awake and says “I'm getting in the shower, baby… feel free to join me” that he suddenly and randomly gets the idea.

There is only one way his “I love you” would blow Thomas away and be totally different.

After a shower… or two… and toweling off… and then another shower, Loki and Tom part only when Tom seems satisfied with kissing him goodbye, which means around 10 times, and an 11th after Tom forgets his coffee. Loki complies because after sex he always did whatever the other wanted, and Tom had been particularly /giving/ today, when usually he'd shoo the man out. He'd still ended up having to do it, but only because a few more kisses and they'd be undressing each other again.

Loki was in a great mood, having both gotten laid and formulated an idea. It was perfect.

He teleports.

Minutes later, the god leans against the counter and frowns down at his options.

 

* * *

 

Tom comes home and blinks as the light switch doesn't work.

He frowns softly to himself and is about to call out when suddenly candles light up all around him. Different shades of white and green candles, casting off an orange glow. Loki, Tom knows immediately, and this seems like a good thing, so he smiles as he comes in.

“Mmh, don't tell me you cooked. I ate earlier, but I would definitely…”

He stops as he rounds the corner and Loki is sitting at the dining room table. The god is smiling, his eyes warm and green, in a suit that is cast in flickering black shadows; the candles make him seem even more godly, setting him in a glow. A bowl of breadsticks sits in front of him, a bucket of ice with a bottle of wine sitting in it, and tiny plates sit on the table in front of him.

Tom's smile could replace the sun. Loki stands up politely and the actor moves closer and kisses him, slow and cupping his cheek and licking out. They end up standing there for more than a few minutes, but eventually Loki pushes him gently away and swallows. “Mmh… sit, Thomas. I have made a meal for us; it is cooking in the oven.” Tom wonders how Loki had turned off the power but not the stove, and then shrugs inwardly, deciding he didn't need to know.

He sits and Loki sits as well, and the ginger bites his lip and gazes at his boyfriend. “You've never cooked for us before… what's the occasion?”

“Must I have an occasion?” Loki's eyes gleam dangerously for a moment and Tom realizes that him questioning it would ruin it, and so just smiles.

“Of course not. I'm just… pleasantly surprised.”

Loki takes this well and just grins back before gesturing to the wine.

Tom nods, and the god reaches over and pops the cork, phasing his fingers through the bottle and popping it from the inside, to the delight of his lover. Loki flashes him a smile and then pours them both half a glass.

A settle of nervousness moves across his face, as it does when he is in public and doesn't know how to answer a question asked by an interviewer correctly. Tom leans over the table and smiles encouragingly, and Loki wets his lips. He shifts his feet and Tom tries to start a conversation.

“How was your day?”

“Dull besides this morning. Cease talking, I am preparing.”

Tom's teeth click shut and he blinks, biting back a snip because this was not just Loki being Loki. This was important.

The god stares down at the breadsticks and then takes a soft breath, looking up. “You have told me you love me many times.”

Tom's heart jumps.

“I have never returned it. It is not because it is not the truth… but because I had no idea how to… make it special.” Loki stares at him. “So many people tell you they love you. I did not want to… sound like a record broken.”

Tom's mouth opens again but snaps closed without his doing; Loki really wanted him to be quiet, he almost never did this.

“You kept telling me and I would have no way to reply. It was torture as much as it made me happy. And… it is time to stop.”

Loki swallows and holds his palm out.

In his hand appears a ring.

Tom can't breathe.

The god's fingers curl around it and he holds it close to him. “I purchased it myself. I… asked for help. The man asked me what I wanted and I told him I wished to marry. I did not tell him who you were. But he looked at me and told me that it is traditional for a man to give his future spouse a ring. I liked this one.” Tom strains to see it and Loki gently opens his fingers, eyes down.

The ring is thin and silver; it gets thicker as it curves at the bottom and at the top there is a small, dazzling emerald. Loki strokes the tiny stone. “He said it was usually a diamond… but… I decided this suited us better.” He's speaking so carefully, Tom's heart breaks a little. “And… on the inside… I have it inscribed.” Loki plays with the stone a little more and then shows Tom the inside.

“I love you.”

Loki swallows, searching his face, and then suddenly the words change.

“You love me.”

A moment later it changes back, and the god quietly explains. “This way… it is special… this way it is not just "I love you". It is "we love each other". Anyone who sees it will know.”

Tom doesn't care that men's rings don't have stones usually, or are inscribed, or that people would be confused over the changing words.

Loki had just said "I love you", and it wasn't direct but it was there.

He just feels his eyes welling up and he looks up at the raven, whose eyes have fallen to the table. Loki strokes the emerald and Tom stares, before the silence stretches to unbearable and Tom opens his mouth. “Loki?”

The god seems to come out of something and shakes his head, swallowing. “I… have not seen this performed except for once, so forgive me if I say this incorrectly.” He stands up and moves over to Tom's chair, and then after another audible swallow he bends down on one knee.

“Thomas. I wish to bind us together in–”

Tom doesn't let him finish and leaps off the chair onto him, crashing their mouths in a clash of lips and teeth and Loki grunts, pulling him down. He cups the ginger's face and then pulls Tom's mouth off his own with a growl. “I had a speech prepared.” He pecks another kiss and another and mutters between a series of them. “It was short… you didn't… have to wait… long…”

“I'm sorry,” he gasps softly. “I… what about dinner—?”

“There is no dinner, do you want me to finish or not?”

“Yes,” Tom breathes, straining to kiss him again. “Yes. I'm sorry, do your speech, I got excited–”

“Marry me.” Loki's eyes burn at him as he pulls Tom away. “Marry me and let me show you. Let me show you, and everyone; I never said it, but I love you, too, Thomas—”

He slips the ring on the actor's finger and it's the wrong one but it fits somehow, and as Tom tackles the god to the floor he can feel the words change against his finger.

“I love you.”

_You love me._

It's worth the wait.


End file.
